When I first heard ‘Lonely Boy’ by Andrew Gold I was instantly hooked on the simply brilliant rock ballad. In 1977 a fair few people agreed with me since It peaked at number 7 in the US and reached 11th spot in the UK charts. According to its discography the lyrics which engaged with the life of a boy who felt abandoned by his parents upon the arrival of a sister were considered somewhat autobiographical in nature. This was steadfastly denied by the artist, who sadly died on 3rd June 2011, although the similarities with his own upbringing were nonetheless uncanny. Having learnt the lyrics by continual repetition, and latterly the banging of the steering wheel I wondered why more first born didn’t get pissed off on the arrival of a sibling?
Another melodic, haunting, and equally captivating song, released earlier in the decade, was made famous as the opening theme to the smash hit TV show M*A*S*H. Performed by Jonny Mandel, and forever seared into the consciousness of many folk of a certain age, ‘Suicide is Painless’ was, to me at the time anyhow, just another brilliant track. As a teenager the meaning of the term suicide was just lost within the hypnotic harmonies.
Decades later, via YouTube, I happened upon these gems again and fell immediately back in love with the magical Andrew Gold song. Yet on this occasion I was more drawn to the simple, yet haunting chorus which simply consisted of a trio of, “Oh, what a lonely boy.” This time my context connected with the taboo subject of male suicide. In November 2011 I vividly remember crying uncontrollably when I heard the tragic news of the death of Gary Speed, the then football manager of Wales, who took his own life. At forty-two he was then only nine years younger than me, had two children, like me, and surely like me he had more to live for than most? In reality my emotional connection was far more explicit, since only a few years earlier I had been that lonely boy who had thought about doing the same.
As macabre as this may seem to some, at my lowest ebb I contemplated suicide too. Whether this was more than a fleeting thought I guess I will never rightly know. I am still here to tell the tale so I cannot say how close I was to carrying out the act. I do know that I had selected a tree from which to hang myself and had reviewed my life insurance policies. My greatest fear was the effect that it would have on the poor bastard who found me. The tree I had chosen was also at the bottom of our garden, so the chances were that my grey, lifeless body would be discovered by someone awfully close. Having experienced this myself on a handful of previous occasions, such an outcome always left me with a great sense of despair. I recall, as a rookie cop, attending the suicide of the mother of a police cadet whom I knew very well. Her son had discovered her hanging in the hallway from a rope attached to the upstairs balcony. Upon my arrival she was lying on the floor surrounded by paint pots and decorating gear. I immediately thought that there had been an awful and tragic accident. It wasn’t until I noticed the ligature around her neck and heard the full horrifying account of how she had been cut down by my friend that I realised the full trauma of this type of exit. He was never the same again.
Looking back to the point that I abandoned any thoughts of finalising such a personal plan my ensuing life took on a trajectory that made me feel forever grateful that I had decided to keep on living. Not for one moment did I subsequently manage to dodge grief, eliminate spasms of depression, or rise every day and simply click my heels as I fed the birds from the palm of my open hand because real life isn’t like that. But my life is worth eminently more than the alternative that I had given more than serious thought to some years back. This epiphany got me thinking. Was I abnormal in having thought the way I had? How close to touching the void was I? How had I managed to step back when so many other men don’t? Could my decision to write about this subject help pull someone else back from the edge? The latter observation was a no brainer since even if I had a single digit percentage chance of success the process would be worth it.
Living in the UK I was horrified at the statistics. In 2019, there were 5,691 suicides registered in England and Wales, of which three quarters were men, reflecting a trend over the last twenty-five years. Men aged 45 to 49 years had the highest age-specific suicide rate, virtually the same eye of the storm that I had encountered in 2005. Globally, suicide rates in men are just over twice as high as for women. Maybe I wasn’t as unusual as I first thought, yet I still wanted additional reassurance and thanks to the often-maligned social media platforms I sought out the confidence of some male friends of a similar age. As an academic researcher I should reference this cohort as my sample group. However, this would provide the most synthetic label to a bunch of guys that readily opened up to a trauma that some of them had experienced too, and even if they hadn’t their wisdom displayed a side of masculinity which is very often consumed by the artificial stereotypes that often define a man. The following paragraphs are a tribute to real men: the lost, afraid, vulnerable who can, nevertheless, come across as the confident, comical, and charismatic.
Have you ever thought about taking your own life?
A little over eighty percent of the respondents said they had thought about committing suicide. If this disclosure wasn’t astonishing enough the accompanying anecdotes illustrated an almost liberating expression, with one man admitting that I was the only person he had ever confessed this to.
The juxtaposition between the macho and the lonely boy was captured with the line, “I seriously thought about telling a fib and saying no, but that won’t help anyone.” A more matter of fact synopsis amplified a certain fait accompli: “Loads of times. Probably on a weekly basis and during bad times, probably daily. I plan it in my head and decide how I would do it and it never occurs to me how serious it would be for people left behind or the people who find me.”
These admissions began to thaw my own preconceptions. The statistician in me now acknowledged that I hadn’t been abnormal in thinking about it too and just maybe the notion of suicide, if stopping short of the actual implementation, was reasonably normal. An ultimate coping strategy? Indeed, a figure in excess of seventy percent would usually merit a distinction grade in any degree assignment. My group of normal guys had smashed that ceiling.
Photo by Gian Reichmuth on Unsplash
What were the circumstances that led you to think this way?
The triggers were, unsurprisingly diverse, however there were general themes that rose to the surface: relationships, mental health, and self-esteem.
The sudden, unexpected, and dramatic collapse of hitherto strong bonds was typified by: “It was after I’d found out my ex was having an affair. I moved back in with my parents and started a new job all at the same time, so it was very stressful. I was then having my daughters the odd day but that wasn’t enough, and I was missing them. I spiralled into a big depression and wanted to end it all as I didn’t see there was anything left to live for. I’d lost everything.”
Psychological peaks engaged with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) after careers within the police service. “My first experience of suicidal planning came out of nowhere and it was border line psychotic with a voice and feeling inside me telling me it was time to end it all. I ended up getting a rope and putting it in a rucksack for a walk to the woods near my home to the tree I had picked.”
How some of the guys pictured their own worth was also notable. “I was sixteen years old and away from home having joined the Armed Services, and things were not going great. I was flying through all my exams, except one. I failed it time after time after time. I was terrified of failure and what others would think. I was drinking way too much and not sleeping, also keeping up the appearance of not giving a fuck.” Others were far more practical: “It was nothing particularly traumatic but simply of its time. Almost a delicious thought of a peaceful and importantly, pain-free release from the monotony of daily life.” While another lonely guy shared, “My own failings, being a constant worrier, concerned about the views of other people about me.”
What stopped you?
Bizarre as it may seem, a consistent factor which appeared to untangle the thoughts from the actual execution of the plan was perhaps the one element some of the lonely boys had perceived, quite perversely, that they had lost: courage. The bravery that had paradoxically been consumed by doubt, fear, and isolation. “Fear and cowardice stopped me.” Spookily close to my own erstwhile narrative another guy said, “What stopped me then and on the many occasions afterwards was the thought of my body hanging and the young cops cutting me down and then going to my home to destroy my family’s life. I had been to so many suicides I knew what they looked like and the aftermath.”
With others the technical knowledge proved the most welcome barrier: “This ideation was nothing more than that. I don’t remember ever going beyond exploring it in my own mind, although I did investigate pain-free methods of suicide via our old friend Google”; “I didn’t know how to do it and I didn’t have the guts to do it either.”
For one a simple intervention steered him away from the dark: “Falling asleep and a feeling that I have a lot to be happy about.”
Photo by Jonathan Rados on Unsplash
How often have you felt this way?
For the majority this was a recurring notion, yet the frequency was wide-ranging. “Too many to count over the years. The feelings wax and wane.” Some also had solace with medication, such as serotonin, and the graphic nature of the extreme thought patterns was captured by one guy who blamed himself, “I would become deeply depressed and the black shadows would then descend on me. This was accompanied by deep self-loathing at what I had become, followed by self-harm and suicidal planning that was very vivid.”
Of some comfort one guy conceded, “I have never felt like this again and this incident was thirty-six years ago. I have witnessed others feeling the same way and strangely enough none of them have ever made me think about that day when I felt so low.”
Did you share your experience with anyone and if so what happened?
Forty percent had never told another living soul. My approach was celebrated as a welcome release of emotion and frankness of expression. I was stunned by this revelation and reflected upon my own fessing up that appeared for all to read in a book I wrote about my life in the police, admittedly some years after I had considered the final curtain call. The others had spoken of their plight with incredibly supportive friends and family members, including parents. Perhaps the most poignant tribute was, “I visit my eighty-two-year-old father every month. It’s a 400-mile round trip but since my mum died ten years ago, we’ve grown close. I asked him directly when we last met if he had ever considered it. He told me he had since mum died but would never carry it through. For a guy of his generation this was surprisingly honest.”
Why do you think men are disproportionately more likely to take their own lives?
There was widespread recognition that women were stronger although this observation was mired in the often-debilitating cultural drivers that frame what it is to be a man. “Men are meant to be hard. Those who cry are weak. This is the type of bullshit that we’ve had to put up with over the years. If a man shows his emotions he’s not a ‘real man’ to some people.”
The space required to talk openly about masculine feelings was obliterated by a landscape of old-fashioned attitudes, peer pressure and a false stereotype that reinforced the alpha-male status. “When I was stabbed at work in the mid- 1980’s, on my return, my boss took me to the pub. That was it.”
For some this lifetime of avoidance had culminated in serious mental health issues in later life. “The ‘manly’ approach is still to do nothing rather than dust yourself down and crack on”. Totally and utterly fucking useless.
Discussing this characteristic with a female mental health professional she added a powerful narrative: Boys are socialised in a completely different way, encouraged not to cry, to be strong and brave. Women face more life changes in terms of, for example, menstruation, pregnancy, and menopause thus providing an emotional resilience that allows often uncomfortable disclosure. Have men also lost their role in society? In a now far off time the male role was disproportionately more aligned to being the main bread winner. Male dominated spheres of employment in many developed western societies in particular have seen a huge demise over the last century; in the UK, for example, the coal, steel, and shipping industries. In addition, women are less dependent on men than in previous generations, further undermining their traditional role in society.
How can men, in particular, be better supported in terms of suicide reduction?
Talking was the only antidote. Easier said than done for some, yet for others their experiences had harnessed a power of incredible insight, empathy and encouragement that had led them to act as peer support to many other men. Wrapped up in this emotional covenant is the signposting to several support mechanisms that exist. For example, in the UK, the Samaritans and The Campaign Against Living Miserably (CALM). Employers operating in high-risk environments should also be mindful of the need to shine a bright light upon the signs and symptoms of PTSD and the corrosive damage this can have on future mental wellbeing. “Men need to feel confident to talk to other men and not be ridiculed. It’s a huge thing for a guy to admit he’s thought about taking his own life. The first time it often comes to light is when they do it.”
The shattering of the macho myth is paramount with mainstream media having a significant responsibility. “It can get anyone, it doesn’t matter who you are, what you look like, what job you do or how much money you’ve got in the bank, you can still be a victim.”
Anything else you would like to add about the subject matter?
A relentless campaign to educate, eradicate bullshit and empathise was the unanimous call. From more helpline numbers at doctor’s to signage at sporting facilities and perhaps most important of all to engage with mental health at a much earlier time in our development. Schools have a significant responsibility, made even more necessary during the restrictions placed on our everyday lives during this abject COVID-19 pandemic.
One man struck a particularly close accord with me when he stated, “I am thankful that I did not act upon my feelings in 1985. Life is for living and there is always a different option than taking the ultimate decision.” I am also glad that I didn’t embark on the nuclear option. How close I came I don’t honestly know, but having spoken out loud about it and recognised that I was not at all odd to think this way, I can finally wave goodbye to any more thoughts of being that lonely boy. Thanks for listening.
Title Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash
© Ian Kirke 2020